


Challenge

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Vanessa Mullen.</p><p>Avon is cheerfully trying to get a reaction from Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in 'Fire and Ice IV'.
> 
> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

He knelt down, running his hands over the strength of Blake's thighs, the muscular promise of his calves, the taut tendons behind the heel. Then back up, slower now, the touch becoming a caress, a counterpoint to the roughness of Blake's hair under his hands. Behind the knees, he touched smoth hairless skin and felt the first reaction from Blake - the slightest of jerks, but it was enough. He looked up and caught Blake's eye.

      "Well?" he inquired.

      "I'm ticklish there," Blake replied blandly. "That doesn't qualify."

      "Ticklish, my arse," Avon muttered under his breath. He tugged gently at a foot, but Blake shifted his weight onto it and refused to budge.

      "I'm ticklish there too."

      Avon released him and sat back on his heels. "The soles of the feet are an erogenous zine," he pointed out. "Given that we've already eliminated the genitals from this challenge, I think I'm entitled to any other area that I see fit."

      Blake spread his feet apart a little. "I refuse to hop around on one leg like a demented stork while you fondle my foot."

      Avon considered that. "All right," he finally agreed. "I won't tickle you, in fact, I won't even use my hands at all, but in return, you aren't allowed to move at all, and you can't make any further protests."

      "Agreed." Bake folded his arms and stood like a statue of Colossus.

      Avon grinned quietly and moved behind Blake, knowing that Blake would want to turn to see what he was doing and was now bound not to do so. Starting at the ankle, Avon licked a slow trail upwards, swirling the hair around his tongue, taking his time to nibble gently at the calf muscles, then reaching the area behind the knee, he allowed his tongue full rein, rasping and licking at the tender skin. Blake twitched; Avon noted with interest that his breathing was accelerating. Abandoning the knee, he moved higher, taking individual hairs of the upper thigh between his teeth and tugging gently at them. The skin here tasted salt and smelt of Blake. The smell wasn't unpleasant but clean, musky and masculine. Avon buried his face in it, rubbing himself against Blake's leg like a cat wanting its head to be scratched. Blake shifted weight ever so slightly, rubbing back against him. Avon moved up, spread his jaw wide and let Blake feel the threat of teeth against his buttocks. A mouthful of muscle. For a moment, he was tempted to play canibal and bite, but that wasn't today's game. His tongue thrust abruptly into the cleft between the bottocks and Blake gasped aloud.

      "My game!" Avon crowed.

      "All right." Blake surrendered. "I give in. It's my turn to wash the dishes."


End file.
